Chapter 7 - the gym - part 1

Eventually my wife's concerted efforts pushed my weight up to our goal of 450 lbs. There was hardly a pause for celebration before she announced:

"I think we should fatten you up to 500 lbs," she said, grinning from ear to ear.

I sighed and nodded. She jumped up and down like a little kid, clapped her hands, and then hugged me. And that's how the next leg of our journey started.

The reason I agreed so easily to adding yet another 50 lbs to my already hefty frame was that, although it was obvious I was getting bigger and things were slowly growing more difficult for me, I still felt pretty good - better than I expected to at that size. My most recent physical showed my health to be good, and while my mobility and stamina were decreasing, the last fifty pounds seemed to show a pretty gradual, slow impact. Basically, I felt like I still had room to grow!

Part of the reason I'd been dealing better with the added weight was probably my fitness level. As I've explained previously, in the last couple of years I'd slacked off from my exercise routine, but in the past six months my wife had me back on track. I was swimming weekly, we still walked pretty much every day, and now I was weight lifting at the gym.

My wife went to the gym almost every single day, and her body was showing the results. In addition to swimming and running, which had given her a lean, fit look, working with weights was starting to make her look bigger and stronger. Her legs showed definition in her calf muscles and in her thickened thighs. Her stomach was flat, with just a hint of abdominal muscle definition visible. Her shoulders and back had grown thicker, and you could see her muscles shift as she moved. She now referred to her arms as "the pipes," and with good reason. Her biceps had seriously grown, and her arms showed the definition of her development well. It had impacted her whole body - before she'd gotten into weight training she weighed 137 lbs. That has increased to 152 lbs, and it was obvious that none of the added weight was fat. She was excited about this ongoing transformation of her body, and I was surprised by how arousing I found it, too. Much earlier in our relationship, when she first started to lose weight, I worried about whether I would continue to find her as attractive as I had in the past. Luckily, it turned out that I did, and now, with her growing stronger and more fit, and me growing bigger and softer, something about the contrast really excited me. It excited us both!

Usually I would go to the gym with my wife on a Thursday night. Although we went there together, we typically kissed before parting into our respective change rooms, and then we'd head off and do our own things. She would attend some crazy class with a wacky name like "Body Rip," or "Power Build" or something, and then work out with the heavy free weights, sometimes with her friend Rachel, or one of their body-builder friends. Meanwhile, I would go to the pool and swim, maybe, and eventually go to the area with the exercise machines and cardio equipment (treadmills and the like). I mostly used the squat machine, to try and build up my leg muscles. She'd really gotten me into stretching as well, so I might roll around the floor a bit doing that. After we'd finished, we would change, meet in the lobby and go home together.

That was our routine.

On this day our trip to the gym was a little different. When I came out of the change room, there she was - leaning against a locker, arms folded. She was grinning at me, which was usually a bad sign (in a good way, if you know what I mean!). I was distracted by how hot she looked in her skin-tight bicycle shorts and sleeveless crop-top that showed off her tight little tummy with just a hint of abs.

"Hey babe, is everything okay?" I asked. I was wearing my usual gray sweat suit which covered my entire body. It was a size 4XL and starting to get a little snug at this point, but it still fit.

"Everything's fine, sweetie, I just thought we'd try something different today," she said, the smile still on her face. She turned around and motioned for me to follow. "Come with me, tubby."

She walked ahead of me, keeping her pace slow, knowing I wasn't built for speed. Her hips swayed sexily, and I couldn't take my eyes off her sexy rear end in those tight shorts. I waddled behind her, keeping pace as well as I could. My belly wobbled in front of me, while my thighs bulged and rolled against each other. Even my ass was jiggling with every step. My moobs bounced despite being held tightly by the compression undershirt I wore.

She took me into the free weight area. I'd seen it, but never been inside before. There were two other people there, way off on the other side of the room, big men who looked like serious body builders. I tried to avoid making contact with them, and followed her to the squat rack.

"Alright, big boy, we're going to do squats now," she announced, and began placing plates on the bar.

My eyes opened wide. "Are we working out together? This is new! I thought I would slow you down."

She ignored my comment, adding more 45 pound plates onto the bar. "How much do you squat usually?"

"About 250."

She placed the last 25 lb plate on the bar and came to my side. "There you go, babe - 250 lbs. Let's see how many reps you can do." She slapped my butt as I moved toward the bar, and positioned myself underneath.

I took a breath and lifted the bar off its rest. I proceeded through the motion of the squat, lowering myself down, then lifting the bar up. My wife watched closely, her eyes fixed on my body, with one arm across her chest, and her hand on her chin. I finished five repetitions, and breathing heavily, replaced the bar. When I stepped away, she was looking at me with a smile.

"Very nice," she said, nodding, and patted my belly. Her hand rested on it. "I guess hauling this heavy weight has strengthened those muscles, too, hmm?" She went to the bar and started to remove some of the plates. "I don't think I can lift the same as you, so I'm going to take some off."

I can't remember how much she lifted in squats, it was pretty big considering her size. Maybe 200 lbs. She didn't seem as winded as I was afterwards, which wasn't a surprise.

Without any break, she led me over to the bench press. "Ok, we're going to bench next. When was the last time you did a bench press?" she asked, smiling.

"Maybe 8 or 10 years ago," I replied.

"Okay, let me start, then," she said, an laid down on the bench.

The bar didn't have any weights on it, she lifted it off the rack and pushed it up about six times, then replaced it on the rack and stood up.

"Just practice the motion first, and then we'll start to put the weights on."

I sat down on the bench, and tentatively leaned back. It was a little nerve wracking, as I was afraid my weight would shift and I might fall off the bench! I could feel my belly sloshing about as I laid back all the way. I felt cool air on my belly, too, which told me my sweat shirt had ridden up. Grasping the bar, I did as my wife had, lifting it five or six times. It wasn't heavy, probably weighing 30 or 40 lbs on its own.

"Great," she said, as I replaced the bar and struggled to sit up. "Now we'll add a couple of plates." She added 45 lb plates to either side of the bar, then laid down on the bench. Looking up at me, she said, "Will you spot me?" I nodded and walked behind the bar. Then she added, "Are you sure you'll be able to reach past your fat gut to grab the bar?" She laughed as she started her repetitions.

She did eight quick, easy reps. It was a little over a hundred pounds, and it looked very easy for her. I didn't have to do anything as her spotter. She replaced the bar on the rack and was up off the bench in a flash.

"Your turn, big guy," she said, and patted my belly again.

I went through the process of getting myself down into position again, and put my hands on the bar. I lifted it up without much issue. She bent over me and grabbed my moobs in both hands, squeezing them together and jiggling them slightly (as much as she could, packed away under my tight compression vest).

"I hope these bad girls don't get in your way," she said, and winked at me.

Becoming slightly aroused, I lifted the weight without any issue. The first couple of lifts I made were no problem, but I noticed the bar was gradually feeling heavier with each rep, and I was very happy to put it back when I'd finished. My wife helped me get up into a seated position, and I pulled my shirt back down. I was sweating a bit.

"Good work, my little piglet," she said, and kissed my cheek.

She turned back to the stacks of weights and put more plates on the bar. It was around 150 lbs now. She sat back, I took my place to spot her, and she did six reps, almost as quick as the last time. She was hardly even glistening yet.

My turn. I sat, then laid on my back, grabbed the bar. Now THIS was heavier. The first lift I made wasn't too bad, but the second one felt like it was so much heavier! I was breathing heavily now, lifting it a third time. My arms started to shake on the fourth lift, which took a lot longer. I dropped the bar back onto its rack, gasping for breath. My wife helped me up into a seated position, and I tried to catch my breath.